Getting Over Her
by KateToast
Summary: I’m not even 16; I’m too young to be wasting my youth away waiting around for a girl who most likely will never reciprocate my feelings, I told myself. How and why Chase and Rebecca started dating. CZ undertones.


**A/N**: Takes place between seasons 2 and 3; kind of negative CZ. My own personal insight into why Chase "got over Zoey" and started dating Rebecca.

XXX

"Thanks for the ride, Mom."

"No problem, sweetie! Say 'hello' to Rebecca for me!"

I smile and step back from the car window as my mom pulls away from the curb, leaving me a few blocks from the sandwich place Rebecca and I had decided upon meeting at to catch a bite. It's at the perfect location: right near the edge of downtown, so we could head in and catch a movie at the dollar-theatre, or we could go take a walk in the nature preserve that's at the very end of Main Street.

I love my town. It's small, but not too small, and comfortable. One of those towns everyone lives in on TV shows; everyone is friendly (for the most part: Mean Old Man Wallace, who runs the hardware store, still instills fear in my heart and I'm almost 16), there's a cute little downtown, and all the houses are nice and kept-up. Very suburban, but I'm fine with that. Coming home every summer from the hectic campus of PCA is a welcome relief; I miss my friends, my dorm room, my freedom, but I like the peace and quiet.

As I begin to walk, my palms start to sweat a little bit. It's unnerving, the jumble of feelings rolling around in my stomach. I've only ever had a reaction like this to two other people in my life: the first girl I kissed, and the first girl I fell in love with. Of course, the one I fell in love with is still around, unlike the first-kiss girl, so I've learned to deal with those nerves on a daily basis.

_These_ butterflies, however, are different. They're new, and weird, since they aren't jumpstarted by dark blonde hair or challenging brown eyes or a slight Southern accent.

I wave to one of my neighbors, Mrs. Finn, who is outside Old Man Wallace's hardware store, looking at lawn chairs. The graying woman smiles kindly and waves back. I mow her lawn sometimes, and she always insists on paying me, and then I always slip the money back through her mail slot in an envelope a day or two later. It's a routine we have.

My thoughts turn back to Rebecca, whom I will be seeing in just a few minutes. It's odd, how things have been progressing for us: I'd never met her before last week, when my mom and her mom arranged a lunch so we could discuss PCA. I was glad to tell any potential new students about my beloved boarding school.

I had been trying to decide what to tell her about as I sat, waiting. Should I mention the great teachers? The tough – but rewarding – academics? The amazingly gifted students like Quinn? The greatest friendships I'd ever made? Michael, Logan, Zoey…

Zoey. Everything came back to her. I'd been daydreaming about her every day all summer-

Then I'd spotted Rebecca, recognized her from a picture my mom had shown me.

She walked over to my table and smiled so prettily and greeted me with such ease, like she'd known me for years instead of moments, and I didn't think of anyone else anymore.

Lunch went great, and soon topics had turned from strictly-PCA to stories from our lives, our pasts, our future aspirations. She flirted and I shamelessly flirted back. It was a nice feeling, having a gorgeous girl give you the time of day, treat you like a potential _something_, and not just a platonic friend like I was used to. Her mom came to pick her up, but there were still so many things left to say, left to discuss – we exchanged numbers and I texted her the moment I got home.

In just one week of chatting with another outgoing, interesting girl, I'd realized some things: Maybe Zoey Brooks wasn't the end-all, be-all in my life. Maybe nothing was happening between us, maybe she hadn't gotten that spur-of-the-moment text message, for a reason. Maybe, after two years of silent pining, it was time for me to finally get over her.

(_I'm not even 16; I'm too young to be wasting my youth away waiting around for a girl who most likely will never reciprocate my feelings_, I told myself over and over and over again as I stared at a picture I had of Zoey and me up on my mirror.)

So I suggested another lunch to Rebecca, carefully, but oh-so-casually, using the word "date". After I'd mentioned it, I could practically hear her grin as she responded with a, "That sounds great."

I hadn't spoken to Zoey the entire week. Didn't send an e-mail reply, didn't return a text, didn't check the voicemail she'd left. I had to move on, and immersing myself in this new _something_ that was happening was the only way I could think of.

And so here I am, Chase Matthews, walking into the sandwich shop in my little town, being waved over to a table by a beautiful, witty dark-haired girl, heading towards new possibilities, and heading away from old ones.

XXX


End file.
